


I've Been Caught

by thepinupchemist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Arson, Cats, College Student Sam, Firefighter Dean, Law Student Sam, M/M, Student Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 10:45:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6151081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepinupchemist/pseuds/thepinupchemist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It happens in this order:</p><p>1. Castiel sets his breakfast on fire (accident)<br/>2. Dean shows up to fight that fire<br/>3. Castiel sets his kitchen on fire (not accident)<br/>4. Castiel starts to fall in love</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've Been Caught

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bec_b](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bec_b/gifts).



**Soundtrack: Hotel Song – Regina Spektor**

**_I’ve Been Caught_ **

Castiel isn’t setting small, designated places in his apartment on fire on purpose so that he gets to see the hot firefighter from the local precinct. He _isn’t._ Mostly.

Okay, so maybe Castiel is setting small, designated places in his apartment on fire on purpose. But Castiel can say with one hundred percent honesty that he did not set the _first_ fire in his apartment on fire, and that fire truly is the crux of the situation. If Castiel’s scrambled eggs hadn’t burst into flame on his questionable-looking skillet that he thrifted from Goodwill when he and Gabriel moved into their apartment together.

Some combination of the unwashed stovetop, crappy skillet and Castiel’s poor cooking skill amounted to making a fire that took a more than desirable amount of time to stifle. By the time that Castiel smothered the flames underneath half a sack of flour and several dishtowels, the fire department burst into his modest kitchen in full gear.

And then, when the front-most firefighter removed his mask and helmet, Castiel singed bathrobe and flour-covered puppy slippers seemed a serious case of being underdressed. He apologized profusely to the firefighters and went red in the face as he explained to that stupidly handsome face that he probably didn’t clean as much as he should and that he wasn’t very good at cooking to begin with and that typically his brother didn’t leave him own devices but had that morning.

Gabriel laughed when he heard what happened.

The first time that Castiel intentionally lit his kitchen on fire, he goes to great lengths to set it up in a manner that makes the cause of the second fire resemble the cause of the first. He coughs over plumes of smoke and waits until he hears sirens to make any real effort to put out the egg-charcoal on his stove.

The handsome firefighter, when he removes his gear this time, blinks from the disaster on Castiel’s stove, to Castiel himself. This time, Castiel prepares for being seen by an attractive man, wearing a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, and jeans that feel too snug but Gabriel promises _make his ass look like a buffet._

“I thought you said you were gonna clean your place up,” Handsome Firefighter says, when he finally deigns to open his mouth. His voice is rough and low like the rumble of a car engine, and Castiel feels its timbre all the way to the tips of his toes.

“I…meant to,” Castiel says, and hopes that Handsome Firefighter doesn’t notice that he did, in fact, clean up his greasy stovetop in between the accidental fire and the on-purpose one.

Next time Castiel lights a fire in his apartment, he does it in his toaster oven and hopes that that appears less suspicious than a grease fire in the same place three times in a row. Handsome Firefighter rewards the blaze with a hard, reproachful look and starts in on his third lecture about fire safety. Castiel loves every velvety word that escapes the man’s lips, and tells himself he won’t become an arsonist just to hear God’s own angels singing fire safety tips from the lips of the most attractive man in Palo Alto.

Castiel doesn’t listen to himself, and maybe becomes a small-time arsonist.

**X**

They’re playing poker on the second floor of the station, Dean with his legs kicked up on the chair beside his, Ash with a half-smoked cigarette tucked behind his ear, Jo whooping all their asses without as much as a twitch on her face, and Charlie snapping her Double Bubble every couple of minutes while she peruses what Dean suspects is another losing hand of cards.

“Hey, you given that cute arsonist your phone number yet?” asks Charlie.

Dean bristles. He glares at her and replies, “He doesn’t like me that way, and he’s not an arsonist. He’s just a terrible cook and never follows through with cleaning up his disaster kitchen. That’s all.”

“Suuure,” Jo drawls out.

“Yeah, dude, that sounds weak even to me,” Ash says. He doesn’t even look up from his cards.

“You guys are the worst,” Dean says, “Stop making shit up so I’ll date people.”

Charlie snorts. She says, “Oh _please_. You like to play dumb, but you’re not that dumb. The guy keeps setting his own kitchen on fire and I will bet you twenty real human dollars that he’s doing it so that your handsome face rescues him from his own idiocy.”

“I…” Dean starts, and shakes his head. He knows that there’s no winning this argument. He says, “I’m not even going to bother answering that. Are we playing this game, or what? I need to lose to Jo already so I can drag my wounded pride home and kick my brother’s ass at something more fun.”

Jo does kick their asses, and takes home a meager pot of thirty-some dollars, an unopened, unscented chapstick, a package of Magic: The Gathering cards, and a slip of paper that reads _I.O.U. 1 computer hack –ash._ Dean ends his shift in an odd mood. The lighter pockets neither bother nor surprise him. He never plays with more money than he should in their poker games, knowing that he loses more often than not. Besides, if he really needs his ten bucks and some change back from Jo, she would give it to him if he asked.

Sammy’s bike is chained to the rack outside of their apartment building when Dean pulls the Impala into his designated parking space. Today proved to be a slow-ass day at the station. Most days, Dean doesn’t mind a slow shift, but today, when all his coworkers badgered him about taking to “the cute arsonist”, Dean would rather have had something to do that would shut everybody up and get them off of his back.

“Hey,” Dean says, when he pushes his way into the apartment.

Sam jerks out of a trance. Homework and textbooks lay spread out before him on their cheap Ikea kitchen table, broken up only by two empty cans of Monster and a tall mug, still steaming with hot coffee. Though it’s past seven in the evening, Dean dumps his belongings on the ground by the door and shuffles into the kitchen to pour his own mug of coffee. He dumps a healthy dose of French Vanilla creamer into it, instead of the butch, untouched brew that his little brother prefers.

“How’s homework?” Dean asks. He wonders when the last time Sam slept was.

Sam shrugs one shoulder and says, “It’s going, I guess. What are we doing for dinner?”

“You want pizza? I could go for a fuckin’ pizza,” Dean says. He thinks about lying and saying that he won their poker game to justify the purchase, but is frankly too lazy to attempt to deceive Sam at this late in the day. Dean’s spoon clinks against the inside of his mug as he stirs, and he takes a long, satisfying slurp of sugary coffee before he adds, “Meat Lover’s, none of that veggie shit.”

Sam rolls his eyes. He says, “Yeah, whatever. We can do that.”

So Dean sets his coffee mug on the kitchen table at the place across from Sam, and ducks into his bedroom to retrieve his laptop. The thing has seen better days and all the stickers on the front are peeling off, but it does its job. He dumps it onto the table and pulls up the webpage for one of the local pizza joints that Sam likes because all their ingredients are _sourced locally, Dean_ or whatever the fuck.

When pizza arrives, Dean forces Sam to close his textbooks and move his homework from the kitchen table. The kid works so hard, and Dean wishes he’d cut himself some slack, but it’s Sam, so he won’t do that, no matter how much Dean would like him to. They crack out beers and wash down bites of meaty-cheesy goodness, and when Sam says that he should get back to studying, Dean tells him to fuck off and that they’re playing Mario Kart whether Sam likes it or not.

“C’mon, man, I need it after the day I had,” Dean says, because if he frames chilling out in the context of doing something for himself instead of getting Sam to relax, that’s when Sam will go for it.

Dean beats Sam’s ass like he always does. No matter how many years they’ve played together and how many of Dean’s tricks Sam’s seen, he never retains that information, and Dean gets away with blue-shell murder on a regular basis. They laugh and shove at each other, loosened up from good pizza and shitty beer, and life is good. It’s great.

Which is obviously why Sam chooses to say after another race, “You should get out more.”

“Me?” Dean says, and makes a face.

“Yeah, dude,” Sam replies, “All you do is work and hang out with me. You should get out. Go places. Meet people, you know? You moved here because of me and you’re not even enjoying it like you should. You work too hard.”

“Oh my God,” complains Dean, “Why are you all like this? Charlie is on my ass, and now you?”

“Maybe she has a point,” Sam says.

Dean snorts and throws his controller down on the couch. He switches off the television and says, “Well, I’m beat. I’m gonna hit the hay. And by the way, _Samuel_ , if you’re going to lecture me about working too hard and not having enough fun, you should probably choose a night when I didn’t find you asleep on your textbooks after two energy drinks and a half a mug of your snooty coffee. You people need to stop meddling. Christ.”

Dean doesn’t give Sam time to reply to that. No, he stalks out of the living room and into his cramped shoebox of a bedroom, where he shucks his clothes and strips down to his boxers. When he slips into the bathroom to brush his teeth, he stares at the guy looking back at him from the mirror. He’s not bad-looking. He’s actually pretty decent looking, considering. Being a firefighter means he has to be in top shape. He doesn’t look perfect by any means, but he looks good.

If Dean wanted to find a date, he probably could. He likes everybody from guys to chicks to the folks in between and otherwise. Maybe the cute arsonist doesn’t like Dean that way, but other people probably would, right?

But cold sweat breaks out on the back of Dean’s neck at the prospect of going out on the hunt for romance. He likes the idea of having somebody there, having somebody to fuck and love and cuddle, and do all those shitty couple things that people do and brag about on Facebook.

But Dean’s focus isn’t on himself. He’s here for Sam. He’s here to support Sam through school, to write the rent checks and make sure Sam keeps his nose clean while on the quest for higher education. So sure, maybe there’s some schmuck somewhere in Palo Alto that would like to do shitty couple things with Dean, but Dean has more important things to do than shitty couple things with some faceless person he hasn’t even met yet.

**X**

Dean has barely shoved all his belongings in his locker when the alarms go off and Charlie sticks her head in the room to say, “Dean, your boyfriend set his apartment on fire again.”

They suit up and hop in the truck, knowing that this will be one of those non-issue fires but that it requires their presence anyway, if only for the fire safety chat he’ll give to the cute arsonist when he wishes he were asking the cute arsonist out on a date, instead. He doesn’t tell Charlie that any of that is what he’s thinking when they knock at the door to apartment 4A.

But instead of Cute Arsonist, the person that opens the door is a funny-looking short guy with hair to rival Sammy’s tucked behind his ears.

“Is everything all right?”

“Huh?” asks the guy, “Oh, no, my stove’s on fire or something.”

“Christ,” Dean mutters. He shoulders past the short dude and makes his way into the apartment. The blaze is minor, not at all hard to smother, and remarkably controlled for something that he’s trying to sell to Dean as an accident.

After muffling the flames and clearing the air of smoke, Dean lifts his gear away and points an accusing finger at this mystery dude’s face and says, “Look, man, we’ve been here five times in the past like, two months. The arson is getting out of control. Tell your boyfriend or whatever that it’s a real problem.”

“Boyfriend?” echoes the guy, “Oh, you mean Cassie. He’s my brother. And he totally didn’t start this one. This fire’s on me. And yeah, sorry, it was totally on purpose. I wanted to see the face that launched a handful of fires. You know, the guy my brother’s been desecrating our kitchen for. And damn kid, you’re worth it.”

As if on cue, a door opens and closes behind Cute Arsonist’s Brother, and reveals Cute Arsonist (Cassie?) himself, rumpled from sleep in a pair of plaid boxer shorts and a sleep-creased t-shirt from some charity half marathon that Dean vaguely remembers being at on behalf of their team only a few months before.

“Castiel!” exclaims the brother, “This is – what is your name, anyway? We need to stop calling you Handsome Firefighter.”

“Dean,” Dean says, and because he can’t help himself he adds, “Castiel, huh? Good to have a name, because we needed to stop calling you Cute Arsonist.”

Red stains the tops of Castiel the Arsonist’s cheekbones. He opens his mouth, but before he can speak, the brother sticks his hand out and says, “Gabriel Novak, brother of Cute Arsonist. Sorry he’s so bad at flirting. Our mother dropped him on his head as a baby; it’s not his fault.”

“ _You_ dropped me on my head as a baby,” mutters Castiel.

“That was once,” says Gabriel, “Or maybe like, three times. Whatever. Mom totally dropped you that one time. Anyway, the point is that Cassie here has a boner for you and if you in any way return boner-feelings you should totally leave your cell. But either way, we promise to stop setting our kitchen on fire on purpose. Don’t we, Castiel?”

Castiel, now even redder in the face, manages a nod. He wets his lips with the tip of his tongue and says, “Yes, um. No more fires. Scout’s honor.”

“You were never a scout,” Gabriel says, and wrinkles his nose, “You were too gay.”

Castiel rolls his eyes.

Dean chuckles. He says, “All right. Y’all got a pen and something to write on?”

“Why?” asks Cas.

“So I can leave my number,” answers Dean, “You know, if you ever have any fire safety questions. Or just want to…chat.”

Gabriel scrambles to action and leaves Dean to stare at Castiel in his sleep clothes. The guy’s pretty damn good-looking, especially now that Dean knows he’s not just projecting desperate feelings onto him. He offers an easy grin and Cas returns a more nervous smile, gummy and hopeful. Dean’s insides go a little fuzzy at the sight.

“Here, here,” Gabriel says, and presses a notepad with a rooster on the top of it into Dean’s hand, along with a glittery gel pen. Dean raises his brows but doesn’t question it, just scribbles his digits on the paper underneath his name.

Dean hands back the notepad and says, “There you go. Have a good one, gentlemen.”

He winks and leaves, and damn if he doesn’t give himself a pat on the back for that smooth exit.

_Dean, you smooth motherfucker._

 

 

**X**

_12:46 Castiel: Hello, this is Castiel_

_12:47 Handsome Firefighter Dean: ah cute arsonist_

_12:47 Handsome Firefighter Dean: u mind if i call u cas_

_12:49 Castiel: Cas is fine_

_12:50 Handsome Firefighter Dean: cool, nice 2 meet u cas_

_12:52 Castiel: Nice to meet you, too_

_12:53 Handsome Firefighter Dean: officially anyway_

_12:53 Handsome Firefighter Dean: lol_

The last message Castiel receives from Dean is a string of winking emoticons, and he isn’t certain how to interpret that.

**X**

_4:03 Cute Arsonist Cas: How is your day going? Mine is awful._

_4:07 Dean: aw why awful dude_

_4:11 Cute Arsonist Cas: My coworkers want me to set up an account on a dating website. They’re under the mistaken impression that I am straight. Am currently trying to figure out how to correct them_

_4:14 Dean: excuse urself to get a drink_

_4:14 Dean: put a straw in the drink_

_4:15 Dean: even if it doesnt need a straw_

_4:15 Dean: then come back and slurp drink thru straw_

_4:16 Dean: then u say_

_4:16 Dean: i like suckin this drink like i like suckin dick_

_4:17 Cute Arsonist Cas: Somehow I think that wouldn’t go over well with HR_

_4:18 Dean: hey man at least im comin up with ideas_

**X**

_7:37 Handsome Firefighter Dean: guess what i did today_

_7:44 Castiel: What did you do today?_

_7:45 Handsome Firefighter Dean: no u have 2 guess_

_7:47 Castiel: Saved lives?_

_7:48 Castiel: Walked an old woman across the street?_

_7:51 Castiel: Did something heroic?_

_7:52 Handsome Firefighter Dean: think firefighter stereotypes_

_7:55 Castiel: I was trying_

_7:56 Handsome Firefighter Dean: cmon man u kno this_

_7:56: Handsome Firefighter Dean: okay ill give u this freebie but next time u guess ok_

_7:57 Handsome Firefighter Dean: today i had 2 climb a tree to rescue a cat_

_7:58 Castiel: !!!!!!!_

_7:58 Castiel: What kind of cat?_

_7:59 Handsome Firefighter Dean: uhh idk man like a calico? shes young, didnt belong to anyone_

_8:01 Castiel: :c :c :c :c Where is she?_

_8:02: Handsome Firefighter Dean: um_

_8:02 Handsome Firefighter Dean: on my lap_

_8:03 Handsome Firefighter Dean: im kinda allergic_

_8:04 Castiel: Would it be all right for me to take her? I promise I’ll take good care of her. I am very fond of cats. I take very good care of my virtual cats_

Castiel sends Dean a screenshot of his current game of Neko Atsume to back that particular claim up. His cats are thriving. He feeds them nothing but the best and purchases the best goodies for them.

_8:06 Handsome Firefighter Dean: dude could u rly? dont wanna take her 2 a shelter, there arent any no kills in this area_

_8:07 Castiel: Give me an hour to purchase a bowl and food._

Castiel ends up returning to his apartment with not only food and a dish to put it in, but several crinkly mice, a package of catnip, and a “Deluxe Cat Redwood.” Dean seems very impressed when he shows up at Castiel’s door in a pair of jeans and a worn flannel, holding a smaller-than-average calico to his chest while he endures a runny nose and puffy eyes.

“I’m going to name her Thisbe,” Castiel informs him.

Dean says it is a nice name, and even hugs Castiel before he leaves.

**X**

_7:03 Handsome Firefighter Dean: u wanna come over and watch cartoons w me_

_7:04 Castiel: I would love to. What’s your address?_

Dean texts Castiel his address, and ten minutes later Gabriel finds Castiel standing bewildered in front of his closet, staring at the options he has to choose from for what Castiel believes is probably some kind of casual date night with the handsome firefighter whose name is Dean.

“What are you doing?” asks Gabriel, swirling the beer in his bottle as though partaking of fine wine instead of watered-down nonsense.

Castiel pulls his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants and fiddles with the screen, swiping to pull up the conversation between him and Dean. He passes the phone to Gabriel and watches his bored look disappear, replaced with something like devilish excitement. He says, “Did you just agree to Netflix and chill with Handsome Firefighter?”

“I agreed to watch cartoons with Dean, if that’s what you mean,” Castiel says, “and now I can’t decide what to wear. I want to look nice.”

“Why? It’s just going to end up on his floor,” Gabriel reasons, “Come on. You can’t seriously not know about Netflix and chill.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s code, brother-mine,” Gabriel says. He passes Castiel’s phone back to him and slips his arm around Castiel’s shoulders. He says, “Dean is inviting you to go and have sex.”

“Oh,” Castiel says, “Am I contractually obligated?”

“Well, like, some dudes probably think so,” Gabriel replies, “but I dunno, he seems pretty chill. If you didn’t want to hop on that dick he’d probably be fine with watching whatever shitty thing he’s gonna turn on. He seems like he actually enjoys your presence. It’s kind of gross, to be honest.”

Castiel sends Gabriel a sour look and asks, “So I should wear something that’s easy to take off?”

Gabriel chokes on his beer. He says, “Wait, you’re taking him up on it?”

“Why not?” asks Castiel, “He’s very easy on the eyes and he rescued Thisbe for me.”

“Well, shit. Go forth and breed, then. And yeah, wear something easy to take off. But not too easy. Jeans and a t-shirt are probably fine.”

A half hour later Castiel indeed wears a t-shirt and jeans when he knocks on Dean’s apartment door. Dean answers with a grin on his face, dressed similarly to Castiel in an AC/DC t-shirt faded from several washes, and a pair of jeans with holes in the knees. Castiel has seen Dean in casual clothing more than once now, but Dean’s body in closer-fitting clothing than his firefighting gear never fails to draw his eye. The body beneath must be something to behold. Castiel is quite sure of that.

“You look nice,” Castiel says.

Dean chuckles a little. He says, “You too. You want anything to drink? Got beer, juice, milk…could make coffee. Oh and water. But, you know, from the tap. Nothing fancy ‘round here.”

Castiel replies, “I’m fine,” and toes off his shoes beside the line of giant-sized sneakers and boots that sit against the wall alongside the front door. He sits on the couch and watches Dean dig around in the fridge, extracting a beer for himself before he collapses beside Cas, grin still in place.

“So,” Castiel says, toeing at the carpet through his socks, “Is this a ‘Netflix and chill’ type of thing?”

Dean almost spits his sip of beer back into the bottle. He swallows, runs his fingers back through his hair, and says, “Uh. I mean. If you want it to be. I don’t wanna like, pressure you into something that you don’t want to do.”

A smile pulls at the ends of Castiel’s lips as Dean switches on the television and brings Netflix up on the screen. It’s a small television, in a small apartment. Clearly Dean doesn’t live as lavishly as even Castiel and Gabriel do, and their apartment is pretty shady on its best days. Cas edges closer to Dean on the couch and says, “I think I do want it, as a matter of fact.”

“Yeah?” Dean says. He’s pink in the face – nervous-looking, even. He licks his lips and asks, “Courage the Cowardly Dog cool with you?”

Castiels nods. He isn’t sure what that show is, but he is certainly okay with having it on in the background while he gets his hands on Handsome Firefighter Dean. Dean punches buttons on his remote and an episode starts playing. Castiel takes that as his cue to scoot much, much closer. A startled look edges onto Dean’s face, and Cas wonders if he’s taken their flirtation too far.

But before Cas can back off, Dean reaches out and pulls Cas in by his shoulders. Their lips brush, just barely, and the sensation of Dean’s mouth on his sends electricity through his veins. A muffled sound of approval spills from Castiel’s lips before he can think the better of it, and he presses in harder. Dean’s tongue flicks out, seeking entrance in Castiel’s mouth, and Castiel opens to him, content as a well-loved cat.

With a groan, Dean grips Castiel’s ass and hauls him into his lap.

Piece by piece, their clothing disappears.

Dean presses Cas down into the couch and kisses him everywhere he has skin.

They fall asleep afterward, tucked underneath a fleece Batman blanket that’s too small to cover their feet.

**X**

The jangling of keys in the door jars Castiel from sleep. He jerks awake. Beneath him, Dean snuffles and groans. He grumbles, “Why are we awake?”

“Somebody’s here,” Castiel replies.

A tall, skinny college-age kid chooses that moment to appear over the couch, his brows knit together. Castiel lets out a startled noise and falls directly off of the couch, taking the Batman blanket with him. Dean ends up exposed, and grabs his naked crotch as soon as the cool air hits it.

The kid covers his eyes and exclaims, “Jesus, Dean!”

“Uh,” Dean says.

“Hello,” Castiel greets, “Who are you?”

“I’m Sam,” says the kid, “I’m Dean’s brother. Who are you?”

“I’m Castiel.”

A look of recognition falls into place over Sam’s features. He sucks in a breath and says, “Ohhh.”

“Oh?” echoes Castiel.

But Sam’s attention is on Dean. He asks, “Is this that guy that kept setting his apartment on fire for you?”

Castiel narrows his eyes at Dean and asks, “Does everyone know about that?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Dean replies.

Castiel flicks his gaze to Dean’s hands, where they’re still cupped over his crotch. He laughs a little, and hitches the Batman blanket around his hips so he can shift far enough to reach the throw pillow at the end of the couch and toss it at Dean.

“Thanks,” Dean says, and sets the pillow over himself, for modesty’s sake, “You’re pretty freakin’ cool, Cas.”

“Thank you,” Cas answers politely, “You are…pretty freaking cool too.”

“Gross,” Sam says, and rolls his eyes before he hitches a backpack further up on one shoulder and turns to exit to a bedroom.

Dean waits a beat, then lets out a belly-deep guffaw. He says, “Shit, that was awkward. Sorry, Cas.”

“No worries,” Castiel says, “I’m not embarrassed. I was setting my apartment on fire on purpose.”

“Coulda just asked me out.”

“We wouldn’t have nearly as good a story to tell people about how we met, then.”

“Touché.”

Castiel leans over Dean, still gripping the Batman blanket around his waist, and applies a kiss to his lips. His heart stutters at the contact, and Castiel realizes that he is very much falling for Dean. The swoop in his belly every time that he sees the freckled face and gentle grin of his Handsome Firefighter isn’t nervousness anymore, but genuine feeling.

And he’s okay with that.


End file.
